(no subject)
Here's a little story taken from the history of my stomping grounds, for those with nothing better to do ;)
R.D. (Bob) Harris of Canadian Wildlife Service and Keith Williams, project manager and field man for Ducks Unlimited, stood admiring magnificent elk antlers mounted high on the wall of the Williams' home near Ministik Lake.
"By Jove, Keith." exclaimed Harris as he measured the antlers for a second time, "will you look at this? They are a royal head; a real trophy! How did you get them?"
"Well, it's a long tale, Bob," said his companion as he strolled off, "but strange as it may seem, that rack that you have just measured may be the proof that an almost legendary tale that has been told for many years through the range of Beaver Hills."
In this part of the Canadian West the country is rolling and well timbered, also dotting with innumerable lakes. It is an ideal game country and as late as 1900 one could travel by canoe, without portage, from Miquelon Lake, close to Camrose, right through the Beaver Hills via Oliver, Ministik, Cooking and Hastings Lakes to Beaverhill Lake between Tofield and Mundare.This route lies south and east of Elk Island Park situated on Highway 16 west of Mundare.
When Elk Island Park was being formed the moose and deer were very plentiful in that area but the elk were noticeably fewer in number.
Around solitary camp fires, however, the story oft repeated was of a giant bull elk who sank through the ice on Ministik Lake into twelve feet of water. The place was marked by hearsay as being one half mile west of the creek mouth which ran from Ministik to Cooking Lake.
The idea for Elk Island Park began in 1904 at which time 16 square miles were set aside as a game preserve and by 1908 the fencing of the original park area was completed. In 1913 the area was changed from its game preserve status to a National Park. It was not until 1922 that 36 sections (the southern part) were added to the park, with the addition of a few other small parcels of land from time to time.
There were many animals already within the fenced portion but the local residents, who originally requested that area be so preserved, were promised at that time that there would be at least 24 elk and 35 deer within the fenced area.
There seems to be no official record of the establishment of the fence or of the animals that were subsequently introduced, but there is a story handed down from one of the early settlers north of Cooking Lake who is now deceased.
Louie Daniel was his name. He was a Metis, well versed in the ways of the wild and a leader among men; slight build, weight around 135 pounds, wiry, with great stamina, about 5 feet 7 inches in height with jet black hair; an excellent horseman and a crack shot He was known far and wide as a matchless guide and a man to depend upon.
He was given the contract of rounding up a number of the wapiti and getting them inside the newly fenced area of Elk Island Park.
He chose 12 young men whom he knew he could depend on to do the right things at the right time in the woods. They were all well mounted and they travelled far to the south and east and established their camp on the Hudson's Bay lands in the southern part of Beaver Hills They scouted the surrounding country for many miles during the next few days' and, in so doing, they got the lie of the land and ascertained that game was plentiful enough for the drive.
Early one morning they broke camp and rode quietly many miles more, still to the southeast. In the chilly pre-dawn they separated, each one several hundred yards from the other, and started working their way slowly northward toward the park. There was no excitement just a quiet, orderly, slow trek forward with an occasional glimpse of an elk drifting ahead of them.
It was a slow, difficult drive as elk cannot be driven like cattle. They have to move forward more or less of their own accord without being panicked or hurried and in some places it took over two hours to move them 100 yards. The riders spread into a half circle behind and on each side with the game forming a sort of island in the centre., moving slowly but surely ever forward.
There was one gigantic bull elk with a set of antlers that made him outstanding that they had sighted early the first morning of the drive, and when the word was passed along to tighten up the half circle it was also to watch for this prize specimen. But as the days passed with never another glimpse of him Louie Daniels began to fear that the wily elk had eluded them, and he silently resolved to return and stay in the Beaver Hills until he got at least another look at him.
There was quite a section of fence laid flat and men spread far out on either side waiting as the last day waned and the drive neared the end. The animals were herded quickly and successfully into the park without ever guessing that they were to spend the rest of their lives within the enclosure.
Everyone was well satisfied with the drive except the man who planned it and he wanted that big elk.
Later he quietly prepared for a lengthy stay and went back into the hills. He was an experienced hunter, but for once he seemed to have met his match.
He got only one long shot at the fleeing form of the old monarch. Although he followed the tracks for two days he didn't sight him again and had just about concluded that he must have missed when in the heart of the thicket he found where the old warrior had stopped to rest. When he went on there were uneven tracks as if the elk walked with a limp.
It was growing late in the day, so he hurried on, following the tracks, hoping to sight his quarry before dark. The elk was headed for the lake where the islands were close to shore. Although it was late in November the ice was not too safe.
"Surely," thought Louie, "he will not risk crossing that spring-fed lake to an island."
But the elk was wounded, weary and hungry and that was just what he intended to do. If he could get across and hidden securely in the little hay meadow that was invariably in the heart of the impenetrable thicket that formed each island his instinct must have told him he would be safe until his painful wound healed.
He was about half way across, in the centre of the channel where there was twelve feet of water, when Louie emerged from the bush and caught sight of him.
In the fading light it was hard to see but he took a chance on another long shot and the elk fell heavily. The ice cracked ominously and as the elk struggled to rise it sank beneath him.
As the early darkness settled like veiling smoke over the lake, a coyote howled eerily, and the waters closed silently over his head. So ended the last chapter in the life of the old monarch of the hills.
On a bright sunny day in June, many years later, with the waters of the lake a full 10 feet lower, around the same island appeared a green Peterborough boat with a red-haired girl of 16 years and a small blond boy rowing. They detoured a few feet in their course to avoid what appeared to be a snag protruding from the water.
Suddenly the boy said, "Wasn't it along here some place that elk was supposed to be? Let's go back!!"
So with the curiosity of youth they backed water a few feet and discovered that it was horns they had seen.
The water was shallow and after a struggle in which they were in great danger of overturning their boat in the bottomless black mud which formed the boggy north shore, they succeeded in retrieving a magnificent set of antlers which belonged to the huge elk of the long ago.
Perfectly kept by the alkaline water, they are now polished and preserved for posterity. Mounted high above a doorway facing the rising sun, the ancient monarch keeps silent vigil over the Beaver Hills where he ruled so long ago.
"It's a strange world isn't it?" said Bob Harris looking speculatively at the rack. "You were the small boy, eh? You and your sister found the last resting place of the old elk.
"I can see why you grew up to be a naturalist, but it is a coincidence that you are with Ducks Unlimited working on the same old lake."
- by Irene Williams
R.D. (Bob) Harris of Canadian Wildlife Service and Keith Williams, project manager and field man for Ducks Unlimited, stood admiring magnificent elk antlers mounted high on the wall of the Williams' home near Ministik Lake.
"By Jove, Keith." exclaimed Harris as he measured the antlers for a second time, "will you look at this? They are a royal head; a real trophy! How did you get them?"
"Well, it's a long tale, Bob," said his companion as he strolled off, "but strange as it may seem, that rack that you have just measured may be the proof that an almost legendary tale that has been told for many years through the range of Beaver Hills."
In this part of the Canadian West the country is rolling and well timbered, also dotting with innumerable lakes. It is an ideal game country and as late as 1900 one could travel by canoe, without portage, from Miquelon Lake, close to Camrose, right through the Beaver Hills via Oliver, Ministik, Cooking and Hastings Lakes to Beaverhill Lake between Tofield and Mundare.This route lies south and east of Elk Island Park situated on Highway 16 west of Mundare.
When Elk Island Park was being formed the moose and deer were very plentiful in that area but the elk were noticeably fewer in number.
Around solitary camp fires, however, the story oft repeated was of a giant bull elk who sank through the ice on Ministik Lake into twelve feet of water. The place was marked by hearsay as being one half mile west of the creek mouth which ran from Ministik to Cooking Lake.
The idea for Elk Island Park began in 1904 at which time 16 square miles were set aside as a game preserve and by 1908 the fencing of the original park area was completed. In 1913 the area was changed from its game preserve status to a National Park. It was not until 1922 that 36 sections (the southern part) were added to the park, with the addition of a few other small parcels of land from time to time.
There were many animals already within the fenced portion but the local residents, who originally requested that area be so preserved, were promised at that time that there would be at least 24 elk and 35 deer within the fenced area.
There seems to be no official record of the establishment of the fence or of the animals that were subsequently introduced, but there is a story handed down from one of the early settlers north of Cooking Lake who is now deceased.
Louie Daniel was his name. He was a Metis, well versed in the ways of the wild and a leader among men; slight build, weight around 135 pounds, wiry, with great stamina, about 5 feet 7 inches in height with jet black hair; an excellent horseman and a crack shot He was known far and wide as a matchless guide and a man to depend upon.
He was given the contract of rounding up a number of the wapiti and getting them inside the newly fenced area of Elk Island Park.
He chose 12 young men whom he knew he could depend on to do the right things at the right time in the woods. They were all well mounted and they travelled far to the south and east and established their camp on the Hudson's Bay lands in the southern part of Beaver Hills They scouted the surrounding country for many miles during the next few days' and, in so doing, they got the lie of the land and ascertained that game was plentiful enough for the drive.
Early one morning they broke camp and rode quietly many miles more, still to the southeast. In the chilly pre-dawn they separated, each one several hundred yards from the other, and started working their way slowly northward toward the park. There was no excitement just a quiet, orderly, slow trek forward with an occasional glimpse of an elk drifting ahead of them.
It was a slow, difficult drive as elk cannot be driven like cattle. They have to move forward more or less of their own accord without being panicked or hurried and in some places it took over two hours to move them 100 yards. The riders spread into a half circle behind and on each side with the game forming a sort of island in the centre., moving slowly but surely ever forward.
There was one gigantic bull elk with a set of antlers that made him outstanding that they had sighted early the first morning of the drive, and when the word was passed along to tighten up the half circle it was also to watch for this prize specimen. But as the days passed with never another glimpse of him Louie Daniels began to fear that the wily elk had eluded them, and he silently resolved to return and stay in the Beaver Hills until he got at least another look at him.
There was quite a section of fence laid flat and men spread far out on either side waiting as the last day waned and the drive neared the end. The animals were herded quickly and successfully into the park without ever guessing that they were to spend the rest of their lives within the enclosure.
Everyone was well satisfied with the drive except the man who planned it and he wanted that big elk.
Later he quietly prepared for a lengthy stay and went back into the hills. He was an experienced hunter, but for once he seemed to have met his match.
He got only one long shot at the fleeing form of the old monarch. Although he followed the tracks for two days he didn't sight him again and had just about concluded that he must have missed when in the heart of the thicket he found where the old warrior had stopped to rest. When he went on there were uneven tracks as if the elk walked with a limp.
It was growing late in the day, so he hurried on, following the tracks, hoping to sight his quarry before dark. The elk was headed for the lake where the islands were close to shore. Although it was late in November the ice was not too safe.
"Surely," thought Louie, "he will not risk crossing that spring-fed lake to an island."
But the elk was wounded, weary and hungry and that was just what he intended to do. If he could get across and hidden securely in the little hay meadow that was invariably in the heart of the impenetrable thicket that formed each island his instinct must have told him he would be safe until his painful wound healed.
He was about half way across, in the centre of the channel where there was twelve feet of water, when Louie emerged from the bush and caught sight of him.
In the fading light it was hard to see but he took a chance on another long shot and the elk fell heavily. The ice cracked ominously and as the elk struggled to rise it sank beneath him.
As the early darkness settled like veiling smoke over the lake, a coyote howled eerily, and the waters closed silently over his head. So ended the last chapter in the life of the old monarch of the hills.
On a bright sunny day in June, many years later, with the waters of the lake a full 10 feet lower, around the same island appeared a green Peterborough boat with a red-haired girl of 16 years and a small blond boy rowing. They detoured a few feet in their course to avoid what appeared to be a snag protruding from the water.
Suddenly the boy said, "Wasn't it along here some place that elk was supposed to be? Let's go back!!"
So with the curiosity of youth they backed water a few feet and discovered that it was horns they had seen.
The water was shallow and after a struggle in which they were in great danger of overturning their boat in the bottomless black mud which formed the boggy north shore, they succeeded in retrieving a magnificent set of antlers which belonged to the huge elk of the long ago.
Perfectly kept by the alkaline water, they are now polished and preserved for posterity. Mounted high above a doorway facing the rising sun, the ancient monarch keeps silent vigil over the Beaver Hills where he ruled so long ago.
"It's a strange world isn't it?" said Bob Harris looking speculatively at the rack. "You were the small boy, eh? You and your sister found the last resting place of the old elk.
"I can see why you grew up to be a naturalist, but it is a coincidence that you are with Ducks Unlimited working on the same old lake."
- by Irene Williams